


Counting Stars

by Merrom, Valania



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bilbo is Bilbo, Dis is a badass too, F/M, Fili is fabulous, Fluff, Gen, Gimli is the gay cousin, Humour, Legolas is the gay friend, M/M, Multi, Other, Romance, Saruman is the college dean/chairman, Sigrid is confused, Tauriel is a badass, Thorin is a rage builder, also there will be a smut scene later on, bolg is a piece of shit, but that's later on, cursing like a sailor, kili is a cutie, some violence and gore, they are gay together, this is basically crack (or will be) you have been warned, you have been warned (twice)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:39:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2904572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merrom/pseuds/Merrom, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valania/pseuds/Valania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kíli nods. "'There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.'" he murmurs offhandedly into his cup, reaching with his left hand into his jacket, pulling out his carton of cigarettes and a lighter. </p><p>At this, Tauriel has to stifle a laugh, immediately recognising the quote. She finds appreciation in the fact that Kíli can also correlate Bolg to the Harry Potter creatures. "Oh, I dunno, he seems more like a Gringotts goblin to me, face-wise, don't you agree?"</p><p>He opens his mouth to say something, cigarette and lighter forgotten, but she never finds out what it is, because it's then that both of them collapse into uncontrollable laughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nitro (Youth Energy)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! I'd like to cordially welcome you all to this little fic of mine. I'm so excited to finally get this out. This has been in the works for about a year. Thanks to my dear friend Mer (please go check out her Final Fantasy fics if you're in that fandom), who has developed it with me, and has cowritten the first four chapters with me over the course of the past year.  
> Onto fic business - much of this fic has been THOUGHT of, but not written. That being said, updates might be a bit slow - but they WILL happen.  
> Also: this was mentioned in the tags, but this is essentially mild crack. Or rather, it will be. Mild crack laced with cute romance scenes and college life and whatnot.  
> Oh, and each chapter is named after a song.
> 
> Onward, my noble readers! I hope you enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> _Mer here! I hope you guys will enjoy reading this as much as we enjoyed coming up with it!_

It's late September, and the leaves are starting to change colour. The air outside has a crisp feeling - not too cold, not too hot, but rather cool. The inside of the library is nice and cozy though, and Tauriel, sitting behind the main check-in desk, sipping coffee and nose buried deep in a book, is glad to be in the safety of the indoors.

"Um... Tauriel?" the library aid whispers from behind. Her voice is nervous, which isn't unusual for the girl. 

"Yes?"

"Um... Legolas needs you assistance in the study hall..."

The girl in question raises an eyebrow in surprise.  _Legolas_ needs her? _  
_

She rises from her chair and walks towards the specified location. Legolas would never ask for her help, no matter the situation. He’s too bloody proud, and she’s just the underclassman who used to work for his dad, after all.

As she nears the study hall, she begins to distinguish a collection of rambunctious male voices. They're all talking at once, and she takes note of the other patrons looking annoyed and somewhat alarmed. Tauriel frowns as she enters the large room, and searches for the culprits.

They're not particularly hard to find, sitting on a large table on the far left side of the room. There's maybe eight or nine of them, but she can't be sure. One of them says something, and everyone breaks into what she suspects to be a choreographed guffaw.

Legolas is nowhere to be found, and she sighs. She is usually not in charge of the study hall. That's her blond friend's task. She's in book check-out duty every day, sitting behind the desk, usually doing homework, reading her own books, or surfing the Internet (read: browsing tumblr).

The young redheaded woman frowns, sighing to herself, and makes her way to the men. She clears her throat then, hoping to garner some of their attention. The youngest-looking one of out of the group looks at her, and his large blue eyes widen further. He has long, red hair (color not unlike hers) styled into two braids, and a beard to match. His bangs come to the middle of his forehead, making his face look vulnerable, and much younger than he probably is. At the sight of her name tag with the word " **LIBRARIAN** " in black, bolded font, he gulps and nudges the person next to him with his elbow in slight alarm.

The young man who turns with a semi-annoyed "What, Ori?" is blond and handsome.

Tauriel crosses her arms and pointedly glares at the blond, who, upon doing a double-take, looks her up and down with a raised eyebrow as if evaluating her appearance based on some sort of mental scoreboard.

She resists the urge to twitch under his intense, scrutinizing gaze.

At long last he meets her eyes again, a somewhat satisfied crinkle creasing at the corner of his eyes.

“Not bad,” is all he says.

He throws a casual devilish-looking smirk her way and she can feel her temper rising faster by the millisecond. She huffs in an indignant way when he winks at her. Biting back a loud, scathing remark (it’s the _library,_ after all), she turns to the next person, who happens to be a dark-haired young man sitting beside the scandalous blond. He’s not quite as young as the redhead from before, but he still holds a relatively juvenile visual aspect. The grin on his face is practically a mirror of the blond’s, which alone could’ve convinced Tauriel that she was looking at twins despite the fact that aside from that, they look almost nothing alike (fraternal twins, perhaps?). He has shoulder-length black locks tied into a semi-ponytail with some hair still brushing his shoulders shyly. His eyes, only slightly shadowed by his bangs, are rather smouldering and dark, giving his stubbled face a more matured look.

But then he opens his mouth and breaks the illusion. “...Fuck.”  
 ****

The exclamation is not at all quiet, and the entire posse turns to look at the newcomer. Silence reigns the study hall, and Tauriel can feel the anxious glances the other patrons are throwing her way burning into the back of her head. It’s actually quite a surreal feeling, an observation that might have her laughing out loud if not for the currently dominant emotion of wanting to strangle this boy’s throat (because honestly, a boy is really all he is).

“I’m only going to ask this once: please leave.” She keeps her voice restrained, carefully under check. She can feel a vein pulsing in her temple. Seriously, she should get an award for the amount of self control she’s demonstrating right now, because she wants nothing more than to brutally commit homicide on this rude punk of a kid. (But that would get such a mess on the books.)

The redhead from before -- Ori? -- looks more than ready to comply, and starts hurriedly gathering his things. The blond shrugs and turns back toward the table. The brunet, on the other hand, pushes his chair back with an odd glint in his dark eyes. Standing up from his spot on the table, he takes a heavy-booted step in her direction. Tauriel thinks she sees the blond sigh almost dismally.

“Make me,” he sneers.

There’s a metaphorical explosion of red in Tauriel’s head. _What_ the _hell_ is his problem?! She’s dimly aware that a hushed cacophony of whispers has cropped up around them (because who would _dare_ to challenge _her_ in such a way), She gives the _boy_ a cold, fixated stare, her face totally blank.

“I said: _Leave.”_

He raises a brunet eyebrow and smirks mischievously. It’s now that Tauriel realizes she’s indeed taller than him. “And I said: _Make me_.” He takes a step closer, and she gets a strong whiff of cigarette smoke mixed with something like motor oil, coffee and cologne. She refrains from stepping away, as it’d show weakness on her part. So she maintains eye contact and glares.

“What seems to be the problem?”

Ahhh, yes. There he is. Legolas, in all his Hero-Complex glory, coming to save the day. The young brunet doesn’t look away from Tauriel’s dismayed expression. The intensity glistening from his eyes is almost intoxicating, and Tauriel finds that she can’t look away either. It’s not until her blond friend clears his throat and calls out a quiet “Tauriel?” that she finally manages to free herself from his hold.

“There’s no problem. These men were just taking their leave.” she says, looking pointedly at the group of males. The flirtatious blond from before stands up, grasps the dark-haired one’s arm - still standing defiantly in front of Tauriel - and effectively pulls him back.

“All right, break it up, Hot Stuff. Let’s book it before we end up getting banned.”

And after another scathingly intense contact of eyes, “Hot Stuff” stumps back to his spot and picks up a handful of notebooks that had been previously scattered over the wooden surface of the table, stuffing them into a tattered black satchel in a non-meticulous matter. All the others are putting their own belongings back into their designated backpacks, and, in a matter of minutes, manage to file out of the study hall with a only a few groans and annoyed mumbles.

Tauriel is still pissed.

“I’m going to make an educated guess and say that those were the buffoons Meril spoke of earlier.”

Tauriel, outraged, looks back at her friend. “Where the hell have you been?! Why didn't you come to take care of it immediately?!”

Legolas simply stares back before shrugging nonchalantly. “It was time for my lunch break.”

She wills her hands to stay at her side and not wrap themselves around Legolas’ slim, pretty neck, with an absent-minded, somewhat amused mental note that refraining from killing others is something she seems to be doing a lot of today. Instead, she sighs and makes her way out of the study hall and back to her post behind the checkout desk.

She _really_ can't wait to go home.

* * *

 

“I cannot believe this…”

“...Kee.”

“Who the hell does she think she is, the Gestapo? Fuck! How dare she throw us out of the library like that?!”

“Now, now, Kíli,” the blond soothes, patting the brunet on his shoulder, “you know Mum doesn’t like it when you curse like that. Now go on and wash out your tongue with soap.”

Kíli sniffs indignantly before dropping his satchel on the hardwood floor of their shared bedroom with a muffled thump before throwing himself on the couch unceremoniously. “I know,” he whines, ignoring Fíli's command. “but that was just so _annoying.”_

“You’re acting like a five year old again,” the blond says patiently, setting his own things on his bed before walking over to the mini-fridge, which is always fully stocked with beer and soda. He grabs two cans of the former and chucks one in Kíli’s general direction. The younger Durin manages to catch the flying can before it can get to first base with his face.

“Shut up, Fíli.” he mumbles before swiftly opening the beer and chugging it down.

Fíli raises an eyebrow, studying him for a few moments before opening his own can. “You should go apologize.”

Kíli looks utterly scandalized. Apologize? Kíli? To _her,_ after the humiliation he had to endure? He scoffs and bites out an incredulous laugh. “Yeah, and while I’m at it, I’ll ask her which shirt looks better with my pants. And hey, maybe after we’ll braid flowers in each other’s hair, since we’ll be getting all touchy-feely.” he scoffs again and drains the rest of his beer can before promptly crushing it in his fist in frustration.

Fíli rolls his blue eyes in the most drawn-out way he knows. “Always the melodramatic one.” he mumbles to himself before speaking up. “But _Kee._ You need to be the bigger person and take the initiative to show her that you don’t have anything against her.”

“But I _do_ have something against her.” he, irritated, runs a hand over his shaggy, coffee-coloured mane before dropping his head to his hands. “Did you see the way she looked down on me? It was almost like she… I don’t know, like she felt above me.”

“...Technically speaking, she _was.”_

_“Fee.”_

“Look, all I’m saying is, shove your stupid pride down your throat and go talk to her. Apologise. I quite like the library, you know. Being banned after one study session is downright mental.”

Kíli frowns, chucking his now-crushed beer can at the bin in the corner of the room. It lands inside. “You say that like it’s all _my_ fault,” he mumbles, crossing his arms.

Fíli shoots him an incredulous glare. “Well, you kinda were the one who told her to stuff it. I mean, just saying...”

“Well, maybe, but she totally deserved it! I mean, that condescending look she was giving us--”

“She was just doing her _job.”_

“You’re only taking her side because she had nice clothes. She didn’t have to be such a _bitch.”_

Fíli sighs, displeased. Little brothers were always so hard to deal with. “Okay, but you’ve gotta admit, we were being massive assholes. You can’t put all the blame on her. So just grow a damn pair and apologize.” he says, walking up to Kíli and dragging him up by his sleeve like the toddler he is. He opens the door and pushes him out. “Oh, and while you’re at it,” he calls out into the hallway as his brother broods away. “Ask her where she got her scarf for me. I’ve been looking for one of those.”

 

* * *

 

Obviously, Fíli knows Kíli intends to do nothing of the sort, so, after downing yet another can of beer (for the trip, he tells himself), he decides to go look for the librarian himself.

He walks down the stairs of the dorm rooms and directs himself towards the library located on campus. It’s rather large, surrounded by many trees and an exuberant garden. It’s also horribly far from his room, so he sighs, sticks his hands in his pockets and starts walking.

Kíli is never going to get a girlfriend if he keeps acting this way, he knows. It’s a well-known fact that, out of the two, Fíli is the more handsome brother (well-known by Fíli, at least), but that could also be attributed to the incredible charm the older blond possesses. Where Kíli sulks and broods and gets irritated easily, Fíli is a natural charmer. It's one of the things he’d learned from an early age that Kíli could not seem to pick up.

So caught up is he in his inner musings that he almost totally fails to notice the very same redhead he was seeking walk by him until he pretty much crashes into her.

 

* * *

 

Tauriel’s day, so far, has been going from bad to worse. She’d been hoping to grab a drink or something and just retire to her room to spend the evening reading, but obviously fate was intent on reuniting her with the exact cause of her bad mood.

“...That’s the second time today I’ve been assaulted by one of you dweebs.” Tauriel finds herself saying, sighing to herself and kneeling down to pick up her books and papers. The blond from before blinks in surprise, just barely registering what has happened.

“...Ah!” The blond springs to his feet. “I was just looking for you--!”

“Look, I’m not in the mood right now,” she sighs, “so if you’re willing, let’s skip over to the part where you yell like a two year old because you want access to the library again and I say no. Then we can just walk away from each other’s lives like nothing ever happened, yeah?”

“What?” The blond’s eyes widen. “No, no, that’s not what I wanted! I’m here to apologize on behalf of my brother.”

Tauriel raises a delicate auburn eyebrow, her interest piqued slightly. “And he couldn’t find the courage in his manhood to come and do it himself?”

The blond smirks at the remark. “He has about eight times the stubbornness of a mule. Hereditary, runs in the family. Probably comes from our uncle.” He gives a somewhat embarrassed shrug and an uneasy grin. Tauriel’s face expression remains stony and indifferent.

“I appreciate your efforts…” she pauses, and he catches on quickly, muttering that his name is Fíli. “Fíli. Right. Well, Fíli, I appreciate your efforts, but if the apology does not directly come from him, you can forget it. Good evening.” and without further ado, she promptly turns around, fully intending to not stop until she reaches her room.

“Wait!” Tauriel turns around exasperatedly. The smile on Fíli’s face is relaxed and casual, but Tauriel thinks his eyes might be sparkling. “If you don’t mind my asking...where’d you get your scarf?”

* * *

 

“This is seriously ridiculous… I shouldn’t have to apologize to anyone, goddamnit.”

With his hands buried deep in his leather jacket’s pockets, Kíli strides down the campus, his feet taking him on impulse towards his preferred smoking spot. It’s specially chilly out tonight and the young man can see his breath. The rainy weather has been predicted already by the local weatherman (the puddles from yesterday’s thunderstorm still linger), so it doesn’t surprise him when the rain comes. Pulling the jacket tighter around himself, he slides the headphones hanging around his neck over his ears and turns up the volume as high as it will go. The Offspring's _Nitro (Youth Energy)_  manages to help his nerves settle down a bit, but he still needs a cigarette.

He exhales in a cloud of steam, watching as it dissipates in the air. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his pack of Red Marlboro Lights and his trusty lighter. His fingers, covered in army green fingerless gloves, are rather cold, but he manages to take out a single cigarette and bring it to his lips. He runs his thumb down the length of the igniter and manages to create a flame. He cups his hand around it to light the tip.

And suddenly, the cigarette and lighter fly of his hands in an unexpected (and painful) collision.

This is not the first time Kíli has run into something (or someone) while attempting to light a cigarette, and instinct guides him to catch the other person around the waist so they don't fall. He briefly registers long, auburn hair and an incredible soft, floral smell.

Then he sees who it actually belongs to and releases her immediately with a loud, “Son of a _bitch!”_

The librarian lands on her behind as she reflexively flings out her hands to steady her fall -- and releasing her notes in a large flurry of paper. Her eyes are shut tightly and she can’t help the small squeak that emanates from her throat.

Kíli stares at her in wide-eyed horror, his mouth hanging open. Of all the goddamned things to happen--

“...Third. Third time.” she mumbles before opening her jade-green eyes.

It’s then she notices that her notes are ruined, having landed in the puddle next to Kíli’s feet. Her face pales considerably and she sucks in a horrified breath.

Kíli is instantly terrified. So terrified that he even forgets to hate her.

“Oh my god, I -- I’m so fucking sorry, I--”

She immediately turns on him, her eyes managing to convey her fury.

“Have you got any clue of what you’ve just done?!” she hisses, trying to rescue the sodden papers from the puddle. “These are all the literature notes I’ve taken and kept this year -- all of them --”

She’s almost hyperventilating. Kíli, not knowing what to do, reaches for her hand. She slaps it away and scrambles onto her knees, desperately attempting to salvage everything she can, even some that are half-disintegrated. The young man watches the way she rakes over the ruined paper, and he thinks he can see her eyes redden with unshed tears.

Fucking hell. He made the librarian cry.

It’s at this point that his natural fight-or-flight response finally kicks in and, having no visible enemy to fight, Kíli flees.

****

* * *

 

Tauriel wants to do nothing more than slam face-first into her bed and moan in her misery, so she proceeds to do exactly that once she is back in her room with the fan pointed at what remains of her notes.

“Fuck my life,” she mumbles into her pillow.

She remains in this position for fifteen minutes before she hears her roommate exit the bathroom. Arwen is tall and graceful and much better at handling situations than she is, which means that had Arwen been in her position, she probably could have avoided the confrontation altogether, which serves only to depress her even more.

Tauriel inclines her head and watches Arwen pick up the hair dryer, but instead of turning it to her own black, damp hair, she directs it to Tauriel’s notes.

“Bad day?” Arwen asks, not unkindly.

“You haven't got a clue.”


	2. Give 'Em Hell, Kid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Valania and Merrom here! We'd like to take a minute to say thank you for your kind words and the kudos you've left us. It means a lot that our little brainchild is being so well-received! Also note that updates will happen every Sunday, so look forward to that!
> 
> As a sidenote, sorry this chapter is so short.

It’s Saturday night.

And Saturday night means Teen Night at the library.

This is an arduous night in which the library opens exclusively for the teens of the town. It’s a night of chaos, immaturity, raging prepubescent hormones, and stringy, greasy failures teenage boys like to refer to as mustaches.

Thankfully, Tauriel has managed to avoid being scheduled to be on her shift tonight, having coaxed Legolas into being the Librarian in Charge for the night, and finds herself lying on her belly on her bed, textbook and (the few salvaged) literature notes sprawled out in front of her. She’s chewing on her lip thoughtfully, eyes raking over the words hastily written in her messy, curvy handwriting.

She hears Arwen unsuccessfully attempt to stifle a giggle. Her dark-haired roommate is supposed to be studying too, but Tauriel suspects she’s watching cat videos on YouTube or something equally ridiculous again.

Even though it’s been a few hours since she started studying, she can’t seem to grasp any of the material. With a tired sigh, she flips her body over on the bed, making sure her reading glasses don’t fall out of place, and picks up her beaten-up copy of War and Peace, holding it above her head. She’s pretty sure she can attribute her anxiety to the fact that her notes and important comments for the term paper on the aforementioned book had been tragically lost in last night’s collision with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

There is a knock on the door, and, though acknowledged, Tauriel can’t be bothered to answer the door. “Arwen,” she says robotically. “Door.”

Tauriel doesn’t lift her head, but she hears the rustle of Arwen’s clothing as she unfolds her legs and makes for the doorway. “This is why you’re going to go prematurely obese, mark my words,” she hears her roommate mutter. In return, Tauriel gives her a thumbs-up, still not looking up from her book.

The next thing Tauriel hears is the turn of the doorknob and the really annoying squeaks of the rusty hinges. They should really oil those, she muses idly.

“Hi, yeah, I’m here to drop this off--”

Tauriel recognizes the voice immediately as Fíli’s and almost drops the heavy book on her face.

“For Tauriel?” she dimly registers Arwen’s voice, “Oh, that’s so nice of you! Why don’t you come in for a while?”

Arwen’s inviting Fíli into their apartment. Oh, damn. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. He and his brother are the last people she wants to see right now, given the sorry state of her notes. She hastily scrambles up to a sitting position.

But alas, there is only silence from Fíli. Tauriel, intrigued, looks up. She realizes that he’s staring straight at her, wide-eyed.

“...Yes?” she ventures hesitantly, but instead of an actual reply, he makes a disgusted sound.

“YOU ARE NOT THE GIRL I ONCE THOUGHT YOU TO BE.”

“Excus--”

Fíli glares at her, then his face falls and he shakes his head sadly. “I had such high hopes for you.” his voice is almost hurt, and Tauriel cannot, for the life of her, figure out that the hell he is trying to say.

“What are you talkin--”  
  
“FIRST OFF, DON’T HIDE YOURSELF BEHIND THOSE GLASSES GIRL YOU HAVE _GORGEOUS_ EYES--” his hands fly about his head excitedly as he continues. “AND YOUR HAIR. WHAT IS EVEN _HAPPENING_ UP THERE? LAST TIME I CHECKED, YOU WEREN’T THE CAMPUS JANITOR--”

“...What does Mr. Radagast have to do with anything---?”

“--SO BRUSH OUT THOSE TANGLES. AND LET'S NOT EVEN MENTION THE FACT THAT YOU’RE WEARING SWEAT PANTS WHEN YOU’VE GOT THE LEGS AND BUTT FOR BOOTY SHORTS, OR AT THE LEAST, YOGA PANTS---”

Tauriel sees Arwen hiding her laughter behind her hand and she sends a glare to her so-called ‘friend’, still not fully aware of what’s happening.

“AND--- actually, those fuzzy socks are pretty cute…”

Sensing the break in his tirade, Tauriel quickly seizes the opportunity to interrupt. “You came to drop something off?” she interjects.

Fíli’s face brightens up immediately and he drops a bundle into her hands. The wrapping is rather crude and hastily done, but she can sort of tell what it is. She looks up with an auburn eyebrow raised. Fíli is smiling, triumphantly, if a little embarrassed. "Kíli feels miserable about what happened yesterday and sends this along with his most sincerest apologies.”

Tauriel, ever so skeptical, looks at the binder-sized present in her lap before looking back at the blond, not exactly knowing how to respond.

“Uhm--”  
  
“Just open it!” he grins at her, his blue eyes sparkling. Arwen is attentively watching, and, from behind Fíli, Tauriel can see the girl signaling her to grow a pair and rip the wrapping paper away.

So she does.

* * *

Kíli is furiously typing away on his laptop by the time Fíli returns, attempting to finish his history term paper (the topic is D-Day and he's delighted that all his nerdy encyclopedia reading on the subject will finally come forth and shine). He pauses My Chemical Romance's _Give 'Em Hell, Kid_ quickly before sliding his wireless headphones to hang around his neck, where they usually reside. He doesn’t want to seem too eager, so he plays it cool and pretends to stand up to get another beer.

Fíli stares at him, not saying a word, smirking, and it drives Kíli mad. He uncorks the beer bottle and takes a swig before pursing his lips in what he hopes is a nonchalant way. “...So.”

Fíli raises a blond, expectant eyebrow.

“...How'd it go?”

“Weeeeeeeell…” Fíli drawls, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper from inside his jacket pocket. It’s been fashioned into a ball. He chucks it in Kíli’s general direction and then proceeds to throw himself on the couch, putting his feet up on the cluttered coffee table.

Kíli frowns in bewilderment, having caught the paper ball in his hands instinctively. He unravels it, and sees that it’s the message he’d scrawled onto the first page of one of the notebooks he’d sent the librarian with Fíli.

Right underneath his message is an eloquent “ ** _Fuck you_** ” written in curly, elegant, if messy, handwriting. He notices she’s also drawn flowers, a rainbow, and sparkles by the small insult.

He doesn’t know if he feels amused or pissed.

* * *

_You can’t expect your notes to not fly everywhere and get ruined if you don’t take better care of them by keeping them in a binder._

How _dare_ he?

Tauriel fumes, lying on her bed. It’s late, around 1:30 a.m. She knows she should be sleeping; she has a literature quiz first-thing Monday and on top of that, she has to go do book inventory (which will undoubtedly take all day) tomorrow at the library.

But she can’t stop thinking about it.

How rude can a person really get? Granted, he did get her two new notebooks (tacky as the covers might be -- one of them has a picture of a puppy and a kitten posing for the camera, looking - admittedly - adorable. The other is simple and has a flowery print) and a green binder.

Either way, he’s an asshole.

Still...it _was_ quite a nice thing to do...

She sighs and turns to her left side, pulling her covers up to her chin, wishing her brain would just shut off for the night.

“Tau,” Arwen mumbles from her side of the room, half asleep.

“...Hmm?”

“Shut up.” the girl mumbles tiredly.

Tauriel sighs again and faces the ceiling. “...I'm sorry.”

From the corner of her eye, she sees Arwen lift her head up groggily. “Still thinking about that Fíli kid?”

It’s truly uncanny when she does that, Tauriel thinks, guessing her cause of distress almost spot on. She purses her lips and shakes her head. “No,” she says honestly. “...His brother.”

She’d never admit it to anyone else, but Arwen, aside from being her roommate, is her best friend (along with Legolas). She trusts her completely (even though sometimes she knows she shouldn’t.).

“What about him?” Arwen yawns into her hand, propping herself up onto her elbow.

“I just…” she pauses, thinking carefully of what she’s going to say. “...I don't know.”

* * *

Sunday morning brings Kíli a nasty hangover.

It’s times such as these when Kíli is thankful his brother lives with him. Taking care of hangovers is one of the greatest things Fíli has ever wasted his time learning. Kíli’d woken up to a peppermint tea, coconut water, and chicken noodle soup, which, combined, had almost completely cured him of his nausea and stomach problems.

The headache, on the other hand, persisted, and even now, as he makes his way to the library (he knows this is a bad idea) with a cigarette clamped between his lips, hair wet from the shower he’d taken 20 minutes prior and the slight drizzle, he wonders why he didn’t just stay in bed. He’d taken painkillers, but so far, nothing’s worked. He’ll have to do like that. He breathes out a cloud of cigarette smoke and vapor when he sighs, bringing up a hand to massage his throbbing temples, resigned to the self-inflicted pain.

Kíli sometimes thinks he’s a masochist. All his habits revolve around things that could (and will) potentially kill him: smoking, drinking, and being a stubborn asshole. He knows he probably shouldn't try so hard to find her. He knows he should probably let it die. But of course, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know why he can’t just forget about it, but it’s almost like the stupid note drew him in deeper, and now he can’t just walk away. No, he has to make things right.

Fíli had returned to their dorm room last night with the newly-found knowledge that her name is Tauriel.

_Tauriel._

The name fits her perfectly. Foreign. Elegant. Sharp on his tongue when he rolls the r. It’s just like _her._

And now, he makes his way to the library in stony silence (and something like anticipation - or are those nervous butterflies? No, must be anticipation. Or perhaps it’s lingering nausea - burning in his stomach - he knows she’ll probably throw him out herself).

He wants to kick himself sometimes.

* * *

Book inventory is probably Tauriel’s favorite task while at the library (other than reading).

It’s just her, piles (upon piles upon piles) of books, and a laptop to input the data. It’s because of this position that she’d done an internship at the library before being offered her current job.

She sighs happily, slowly reaching for the travel cup full of green tea set on the coffee table next to her. She hears thunder outside, and then the rain starts pouring harder than the weatherman had predicted for this week. Looking out the big window to her left, she sees just how gray the sky is and idly wonders if they’ll be getting snow sooner this year.

Distracted and so absorbed by her thoughts, she doesn’t notice the way her wayward hand bumps the cup off the table, and, almost in slow motion (or a similar effect caused by sudden panic), she gasps and tries to grasp it before the liquid reaches the books sitting directly below.

A hand, big, strong, and masculine, shoots out from seemingly out of nowhere and catches the cup, only a few drops of the tea spilling out on the carpet and the plastic-bound cover of _Catcher In the Rye_.

Tauriel’s heart is racing, and a - now - _very_ familiar scent of smoke and faint, pleasant male cologne almost overpowers her senses.

She knows who it is and looks up, hoping her hair will mask the flush she knows is tainting her features. Not because of his presence, but because _the book was almost ruined_. He’s grinning at her, almost cocky, and she can feel her blood starting to boil.

“Careful, there. We don’t want more paper ruined by water damage, now do we?” he says quietly and sets the cup back on the table, away from the edge. She purses her lips before an angry retort makes its way to his ears. She does, after all, at least owe him a thanks for saving the book.

But of course, that’s not at all what comes out of her mouth. “What are you doing here? The library is closed to the public on Sundays.”

He doesn’t seem to notice her lack of gratitude and shrugs easily. “The door was opened.” he says, striding over to the chair directly in front of hers and plopping down unceremoniously. His smile is a bit softer now and she idly wonders why before deciding it doesn’t matter.

She turns back to her laptop, pretending to be occupied (she is actually nearly finished with her duties) as she replies: “You aren’t part of the library staff. You shouldn’t be here.”

Truth be told, it comes out sounding probably a lot more ill-spirited than she’d meant it. She doesn’t want him to think she’s being unnecessarily mean, but his presence there bothers her in a way that she can’t even begin to explain.

He’s remains silent for a few seconds before quietly asking, “Do you want me to go?”

Her eyes meet his briefly. She isn’t sure if she can hear a playful edge to his voice or if he legitimately is asking her what she wants. She decides to go for honesty in her reply. “If you wouldn’t mind.” She looks back to her laptop, pretending to browse down the window she has opened. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him stand up.

“Okay. I’ll leave when you leave,” he says.

She looks up at him, towering over her for once, and raises an eyebrow. “And why would you want to do that?” she asks tiredly. She is so not in the mood for this shit.

His grin gains a mischievous quality and his eyes glimmer in the faint lighting as he shrugs, but he doesn't respond vocally.

* * *

 

Kíli is a stubborn son of a bitch.

He knows this. Fíli knows this. His mom knows this. Uncle Thorin knows this. Anyone who has ever had the pleasure to meet the young man will honestly testify that he is as headstrong as they ever come.

It is this ‘gift’ of his that grants him the patience to wait until Tauriel finishes her duties at the library to leave with her. Granted, he knows she probably took a little longer on purpose just to spite him (she just seems like the kind of girl who would do something like that). It’s around 4 pm by the time they leave the premises, Tauriel’s bookbag slung over her shoulder and Kíli’s hands in his pockets.

He glances over at Tauriel, noting the librarian’s stiff posture, the way she determinedly stares straight ahead and how she’s making it a point that she is Not Talking To Him. It’s kind of cute, actually.

Kili clears his throat, almost breaking the awkward atmosphere for a split second. "You're awfully quiet." He says, looking down at his feet. His wine-colored leather Doc Martens are soaked and Tauriel's own light brown boots are in no better condition.

"And you're awfully observant."  She retorts, maintaining her eyes straight ahead.

"Look, I just want to properly apologize, okay? I really do feel bad about your notes, and I want..." He hesitates when she stops walking and turns her eyes to him. He mentally stumbles and wonders just what is it that he wants. "I want to make it up to you?" He berates himself for making it sound like a question.

Tauriel looks at him with a mixture of exasperation and confusion swimming in the depths of her dark, emerald eyes. "Look, I'm past it and you should be, too. If you want to truly make up to me, leave me alone." Her voice is tired when she says this. She begins walking away again.

Something grabs hold of his courage and he, again, chases after her.

"Wait, Tauriel, hang on."

She stops and slowly turns to face him again. Her long, damp auburn hair turns with her and dammit, she really _is_ pretty, isn't she?

"A coffee," She frowns. "Or tea." He suddenly feels very self-conscious and out of breath. It's strange and unlike anything he's felt before. It makes him highly uncomfortable. "Whatever you want. Let me at least take you out for a drink, please? I--" he swallows, his throat dry at the scrutinizing look she's sending his way. "I'll feel less guilty."

  
She raises a skeptical eyebrow, and then sighs, defeated, before complying. After all, Kili realizes, she _does_ own him a thanks for the salvaged books.


	3. Pardon Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, Valania here! Can you believe chapter 3 is up? I certainly can't! We hope you enjoy!

Tauriel really can’t believe this.

It’s one thing to accept his apology, but it’s an entirely different thing altogether to go out and get a drink with him. And now, as she stands in line with him at the local Starbucks, she begins to feel self-conscious.

What exactly is she _doing_?

“So, do you come here a lot?” he asks, attempting to start up the conversation once more. His hands are in his jean pockets and she can hear him toying around with either a set of keys or spare change.

She nods in response to his question, steadily looking at her feet as the line slowly moves closer to the register. "Yeah, but I'm more of a tea person." Her long, loose red hair falls out of place. She allows it to cover the side of her face, hiding her from his probing caramel eyes.

He nods, and Tauriel can tell he feels nervous around her.

A few minutes of semi-comfortable silence later, they finally reach the front of the line.

"What can I get for you lovely couple?" the barista says with a bright smile.

Tauriel flushes slightly at the thoughtless comment and notices Kíli is in a very similar state. The left corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk, though, when he notices the colour on her cheeks. It bothers her.

She gives the barista a cold, blank look. "Grande Calm Brewed Tea, please. My name’s Tauriel." She reaches into her satchel for her wallet as the barista writes out the order details on the cup, but Kíli's voice stops her. “And a grande Hazelnut Macchiato. I’m Kíli. Thanks.” He quickly pulls out his own wallet and deliberately steps in front of her, intending to pay for both her drink and his. She frowns as he hands the barista a $20 and receives his change.

As they wait for their drinks by the side of the bar, she bites her lip, unsure, before speaking in a low voice. “You didn’t have to do that. I am perfectly capable of paying for myself.”

He shrugs for what seems like the millionth time today and grins at her sheepishly. “I know. But that wouldn’t have helped my guilt at all.”

It sounds like an excuse, and it probably is. Tauriel scrutinizes at him for a moment before looking back down at her feet. This is already very uncomfortable.

* * *

K **í** li has no idea what he’s supposed to do.

This whole trip had been Fíli’s idea. “It’ll show her you really want to make it up to her!” he’d said. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he just wants to get back to their shared room and kick his brother.

He taps his foot impatiently against the floor along to Pardon Me by Incubus, playing softly in the background. " _Pardon me while I burst into flames_..."

Bursting into flames. Ah, yes. That sounds nice right about now, Kíli muses before stealing a look at Tauriel from under his bangs. The girl is completely stoic. He can't find anything in common with her at all, and it bothers him slightly that all his efforts are being thrown away so effortlessly. Granted, he had been an ass to her before, but didn't his gift make it up to her at all? Can't she tell he _is_ sorry?

"Calm Brewed Tea for Tauriel and Hazelnut Macchiato for Kíli!" the barista calls out. Kíli can see Tauriel looking at him out of the corner of her eye before shuffling over to receive their drinks. She hands him his cup quietly, not looking at him.

"Thanks," he says, smiling slightly. His hands, though enshrouded in his favourite pair of fingerless gloves as they are, instantly warm up as the sweet scent emanating from his cup reaches his nose.

She nods, holding her own drink in one hand with her other one stuffed in her jacket pocket.

Then someone pushes him and he almost drops his coffee all over Tauriel. He thanks the gods for his quick reflexes.

He knows it's no accident - the repugnant smell of body odor, sweat and what must be an unhealthy, catastrophic amount of Axe body spray lets him know it's Bolg, captain of the university's football team.

"Get out of the fucking way, Durin," the big, ugly idiot says, spitting out Kíli's last name like it's a curse. He and his army of douchebags make their way to the bar to place their orders.

Kíli mumbles an urgent and quiet "We should go. Now." to Tauriel. His voice is steely and he hopes she realizes it's not directed at her.

She nods, understanding (and temporarily forgetting her dislike for Kíli, apparently), but before they even begin walking towards the door, Bolg stops them. "What, leaving so soon?" His voice is loud and carries itself well throughout the small building. "Little princess off to get his nails done, probably!"

Bolg's posse guffaws, so exaggerated it almost seems choreographed. Kíli takes a deep breath, trying to hold on to his temper.

But then Bolg speaks again.

"I wouldn't hang around him, Greenwood." His voice is condescending, but Tauriel remains quiet. It's now Kíli realizes all the patrons and baristas are staring at them in wide-eyed anticipation.

"You'd be much better off hanging with us, lookin' like you do, sweetheart," he sneers, winking. "Someone like you shouldn't be around someone like _him."_

Before Kíli can send back a scathing reply (how dare they speak so lecherously to her?!), Tauriel speaks up, voice flat and eyes blank. "And what makes _you_ so special, if I may inquire? Is it the arduous amounts of that _disgusting_ body spray you seem to think will attract women your way and simultaneously hide your awful stench, or the fact that you're allowed to tackle and wrestle sweaty men in tights and call it a sport?"

Silence reigns the small campus Starbucks for a few tense seconds before there's a snort coming from one of the patrons. Kíli thinks he's dreaming - he must be. That had been the greatest reply he could've hoped for. Tauriel is staring straight into Bolg's now-raging eyes as "Ooo"s and laughs echo around the room.

“Is that how you’re going to be?” he hisses, his voice dangerously low. “You should know better than to make fun of us like that, you dumb fucking slut.”

That’s it. That’s the final straw. Kíli can handle being pushed around by them, but he won’t stand for Tauriel being put down by them as well. “Shut the fuck up, you stupid asshole.” he snarls, looping his arm through Tauriel’s to try and steer her away.

“Uh-uh, watch your tongue, Durin.” Bolg is glaring at him, with a truly filthy smile stretched Cheshire-like across his face. “Do you kiss your daddy goodnight with that mouth?” A sickening laugh. “Right. You don’t. Kinda hard with him being dead and all, ain’t it?”

This stops Kíli dead in his tracks. Before he can even do anything, though, he feels Tauriel slipping her arm out of his. “Excuse me,” she says sweetly to him.

Kíli watches in dumbfounded silence as Tauriel walks up to Bolg, who stands a full head taller than her and probably weighs three times as much, and calmly socks him on the jaw.

* * *

 

They were kicked out, in the end. As well as banned from coming in the future.

Tauriel sighs dramatically as she sips from her cup. “Ah well, their drinks aren't even that good anyway.”

Kíli is staring at her as if she's gonna hit him too, which, now that she thinks about it, had seemed like viable course of action just this morning. Funny how things work like that.

"Mighty strong arm you seem to have there," he says, his voice almost amused as he takes a sip of his lukewarm coffee. "Do your knuckles hurt?"

She shrugs nonchalantly, easily keeping up with his long strides. "You'd be surprised at the sheer amount of endurance my body has. My strength is greater than average, probably due to the unknown fact that I do archery and martial arts." She's rambling to him now and she doesn't even know why.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise and she could have sworn his eyes sparkled for a second. “Do you really?”

“Like I said, unknown.”

They walk for a bit more, Kíli is deep in thought, seemingly arguing with himself. Then he says, so quietly that Tauriel almost doesn’t catch it, “Thanks.”

It's her turn to raise an eyebrow. "For what?" she says, though she has an idea what his reply will be.

"You know," he clears his throat, and despite the dark stubble and the cold temperature, she can tell his cheeks are coloring. "for what you did. Back there."

She remains quiet for a minute before answering, "Some things you can't joke about. Bringing in your family as an insult is lowly and unforgivable. I won't stand for such a thing."

Kíli nods. "'There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them,'" he murmurs off-handedly into his cup, reaching with his left hand into his jacket, pulling out his carton of cigarettes and a lighter.

At this, Tauriel has to stifle a laugh, immediately recognizing the quote. She finds appreciation in the fact that he can also correlate Bolg with the Harry Potter creatures. “I dunno, he seems more like a Gringotts goblin to me face-wise, don’t you agree?”

He opens his mouth to say something, cigarette and lighter forgotten, but she never finds out what it is because it's then that both of them collapse into uncontrollable laughter.

* * *

Fíli hums a tune lightly to himself as he strolls back to his dorm room, dinner in hand.

It’s been a good day for him so far. Work had been relatively chill today, enough that he'd managed to bring back dinner: three pizzas that smell too good to be true. He sneaks a slice from the box on the top and takes a bite, savoring the taste of meat. Kíli better love him after tonight.

Before he gets any closer to the door, he hears the unmistakable sound of laughter coming from inside his shared room. He raises a surprised eyebrow. There’s a _girl_ in their room? Without Fíli in there?

Kíli’s deep baritone rings out as well, and the blond Durin’s frown deepens. _Kíli_ has a girl in their room?

That… makes no sense.

He then turns the door knob slowly, hoping to not make a sound. He doesn’t want to spook them.

The sight that welcomes him home is one that he can’t believe: Tauriel is sitting on Kíli’s desk chair, her legs crossed, a smile on her face, and a photo album in her hand. Kíli is on his bed, lying with his face pressed against the pillow. He’s making sounds of distress as Tauriel’s daft fingers and keen eyes leaf through the pictures of their childhood.

“You… were quite an obese child,” she comments, smiling slightly. Her eyes are glued to a picture, and Fíli, even from this distance, manages to catch a glimpse of the image: it’s Kíli smiling brilliantly at the camera. His two front teeth are just barely protruding and his chubby hands, hair and round, rosy cheeks are covered in blue frosting and cake: his first birthday.

Kíli whines again, and Fíli suppresses a snort at his brother’s misery. “I was not _obese._ I was merely _big-boned_.” his brother mumbles into his pillow.

“No, you were _definitely_ obese.” Fíli supplies with a grin, closing the door behind him with his foot before walking over to the kitchenette. Kíli looks up from his desolation and shoots the older blond a glare, finally having noticed he was indeed home.

“I was most _definitely not.”_ his voice is indignated. Fíli is enjoying this too much. He drops the pizzas on the wooden table and his backpack by the foot of his bed before making a beeline for the mini fridge in between their beds. His hand grasps a beer and he retracts back to his own bed.

“No, you really were. Mom used to call you her little Blob of Love, remember? Because when you ran, your entire body jiggled?”

Kíli wails in his torment, flopping back to face his pillow and Tauriel purses her lips to hold back the laugh that is obviously threatening to emerge her lips. Fíli surveys his work with a satisfied grin on his face as he takes another bite out of the slice of pizza in his hand and manages to uncork the beer bottle with the other. He knows it’s a pretty low blow, but figures it’s all in the spirit of harmless fun and sibling humiliation.

Tauriel has calmed down now, and manages to speak up. “Blob of Love?” her voice is incredulous.

Kíli groans lifting his head from his pillow. “Please don’t ask. I want to have a little pride left after today, if at all possible.” He gets up, directing himself towards the kitchenette. He extracts two plates from the cupboard, sneaking a glance at the ginger in the room. “So. Pizza?”

 


	4. Bad Reputation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap chapter four! We're so excited for you all to read this. I must admit, this chapter was written entirely by me (Valania), and beta'd by Merrom. As it happens, the rest of the chapters will continue to be written in the same way, as Mer has school obligations she simply cannot ignore, and thus has virtually no time to write (unlike me, who is void of a social life and only have to worry about my job :'D).  
> That being said, I truly hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know what you think!  
> Also - thank you so much for the comments and kudos you've left holy shit I don't think you realise how much that means to us!

She can feel their probing eyes on the back of her head. It feels like a virus, following her everywhere she goes.

Even now, as she sits in her English Literature class, she can almost _hear_ what they’re thinking, saying to themselves: “That Greenwood girl. She totally punched Bolg in the face yesterday.”

“I heard she gave him a black eye!”

“Really? Someone told me he had a bloody nose and split lip after…”

“Wasn’t Durin there too? I heard he scurried away like a scared puppy--”

News sure does travel fast. These are just some of the few things that had reached her ears as she had navigated her way through campus early that morning. Her first lecture started at 8:00 a.m., and even at that time, there were people attempting to spread rumors about the incident on Sunday. Not only are those rumors all wrong, but annoying as well. She almost wishes she hadn’t actually punched the big, bulging idiot on the jaw.

It’s at this time that she sees someone familiar venture inside the spacious lecture hall. She’s sitting at the very back, closer to the door than to the professor. She likes to sit by herself: her class is actually very small (being in the morning), and the students who do happen to show up for it generally end up sitting up at the front.

The familiar face happens to be the redheaded boy from the library incident on Friday. What’s his name? She can only remember it starting with an O. He spots her and smiles shyly. She returns the smile a little hesitantly. He makes a beeline in her direction, clutching a leather-bound journal and literature textbook to his chest almost as a shield.

He has big, scared hazel eyes. He opens his mouth, and croaks a small, “Hello.”

She fights the urge to raise her eyebrow. “Good morning.”

He then clears his throat and looks down, hiding his eyes from her. “Do you mind if I…” he hesitates, swallowing a bit thickly, and vaguely motions to the empty spot next to her. She catches on quickly, and makes room for him on the large wooden table.

“Oh, no, by all means,” she says, giving him a quick smile. He inspires a bit of pity within her, if she’s being honest.

He gives her a grateful look and slides his belongings onto the table. They remain silent for a few minutes before he sighs, effectively garnering her attention. “Thank you.” he says, very quietly. She thinks she might actually have imagined it.

“Pardon?” she asks, unsure she heard correctly.

The young man looks at her from the corner of his eye, a blush on his cheeks. “I just,” he begins weakly before taking a deep breath. He starts over. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

She frowns in confusion. “For what, throwing your lot out of the library?”

He smiles sheepishly. “Bolg has been giving Kíli a lot of grief lately. All of us, we try to stay together whenever we go out to keep him under our wing, you know, strength in numbers? But there have been a few instances where he’s been alone.”

A cold chill runs down Tauriel’s spine as the young man continues. “He’s… had more than a few unpleasant encounters and ended up injured a few times.”

“Has this been reported? Is the campus police aware of any of this?” Her voice is incredulous. Her mind quickly jumps back to Sunday at the Starbucks, where Kíli, upon spotting Bolg, had tried to pull Tauriel out of the building. Her blood boils at the thought of Bolg's ugly, pompous smirk.

The young man (whose name she finally remembers - Ori!) shakes his head grimly. “Nobody outside from our company of friends knows of this. I don’t think Kíli’s even told his uncle or his mom. But it’s become a real problem. We’ve been trying to convince him to maybe take the issue to one of the professors or perhaps the Dean… but he’s insistent on keeping this quiet.” he sighs, before widening his eyes almost comically in horror. “Oh, Miss Greenwood, you must promise to not let it slip that I’ve informed you of this situation! If Kíli finds out I've told you, he’ll get very upset with me!”

Tauriel then spends the next few minutes before the lecture starts assuring and reassuring Ori that she’ll keep his secret safe. Their professor walks in then, prompting them to put their notes away and get ready for the quiz on _War and Peace_. Once she's done, she takes her quiz up to her professor, who directs her to open up her textbook and start on the next chapter. She obediently does so once she's back in her seat.

Ori finishes quickly after her, shyly getting up and handing his own quiz to the professor before scurrying back to his seat. Tauriel can't help but tear her gaze away from her book and towards Ori again. Her voice is a mere whisper. "Ori," he looks surprised, as if he never expected her to know his name. "Exactly how long has Bolg been harassing Kíli?"

The young redhead shakes off the surprise and substitutes it for a frown, deep in thought for a minute. "Probably... Hmm. I'd say probably around the time the semester started." He turns to stare at the wooden table. Tauriel notices him clench his fists. "But they've known each other for years - their families have always been at odds against each other. As far as I know, this isn't anything new. It's only now that's it's gotten worrisome."

Tauriel doesn't like the sound of that at all. She narrows her eyes. "Thank you for telling me this. I had no idea."

He nods in response, but there's a grave look in his eyes. "Be careful, Miss Greenwood. Bolg doesn't like to appear weak in front of others, and you showed him up big time in front of his friends and everyone else who was present at the Starbucks. He'll want revenge."

Tauriel smirks. Her voice is raised just above a whisper as she turns back to the book opened before her. "He's welcome to try."

* * *

“... And that’s how the four-pronged attack against Nazi Germany was a success.”

History is Kíli’s favourite subject (other than Mechanical Engineering), and he’s excited to showcase all the knowledge he holds on the subject.

Except for today.

No, today, his head is low on the desk, resting on his folded arms and he is attempting to pretend he doesn’t exist. His wild coffee-coloured mane of curls is hidden from view, stuffed under a grey beanie, and his jacket’s hood is pulled up to cover his head and further hide his face from view.

In retrospect, Kíli knows this is probably drawing more attention to himself than anything else - for fuck’s sake, the reason for the ridiculous getup in the first place is to _hide,_ he thinks - but he can’t bring himself to care. At least this way he can't see all the attention he knows is directed at him.

Everywhere he goes, people’s eyes follow closely behind. He tries to tell himself that it doesn’t _matter_ what people think, that he doesn’t really _care._ Except he does, and he kind of really hates himself for it. He wishes he would’ve been the one to have punched Bolg on the goddamned face. By all means, he isn’t _mad_ Tauriel that stood up for him. Hell, no. If anything, it had created a big enough crack in the ice to wedge himself into Tauriel’s good graces.

Kíli frowns, deep in thought: if the rumors have reached him so fast, he doesn't even want to think how Tauriel might be dealing with them. He wonders if she’ll deem his company unworthy after she hears all the vile things being said about them both. He wouldn’t blame her if she did. He wouldn't want to hang around himself, either.

Class can’t end soon enough. He can’t concentrate on the lecture, as much as he’d like to (but it’s not like it matters - he knows this subject inside and out), and he just wants to get out and away from the curious stares and hushed gossiping voices, to get some damn fresh air.

Turning his mind to more pleasant thoughts, he brings himself to remember that the rest of his day is free of obligations. He smiles as he thinks back to the night prior, to Tauriel’s laugh and friendly eyes, as well as Fíli’s teasing and the plans Tauriel and himself had made for today as Kíli had walked her back to her dorm room.

Who knew someone so cool could be hidden behind all that sass and long, copper-coloured hair?

The lecture ends soon after that, and Kíli realises (not really caring) that he has missed the entire lesson as a result of being entrapped in his own thoughts. Oh, well.

He gathers his things, wondering if he should be courteous and bring Tauriel a coffee or something when he swings by the library, before remembering his banishment from the campus Starbucks. Maybe he'll just swing by the grocery store and pick her up a can of those tea and juice infusions or something. She _did_ mention she's more of a tea person, after all...

Once his things have been effectively shoved into his satchel, he walks out of the lecture hall and slips one of his earbuds in place, pulling his phone out to select a song. He avoids running into people as he makes his way out of the building, his eyes downcast.

" _I don’t give a damn ‘bout my reputation_!"

Joan Jetts and the Blackhearts’ Bad Reputation is not only fitting, but soothing after a day like this. Satisfied, he pops in the other earbud and continues on his way.

* * *

 Tauriel is working on putting back returned books by the time Kíli shows up. "Hey," she says, shooting him a passive smile as she sorts through a massive pile of paperbacks, separating them by genre.

Kíli grins in that playful way of his. "Hey yourself. Life treatin' ya good?"

Tauriel turns her gaze back to her work. "Same as usual." Her voice is airy. She still feels uneasy after the discovery in Lit class. "How was History?" she asks to fill the silence.

Kíli's smile is unwavering. He sits down on the same chair he'd occupied the day before - the one directly in front of hers. "Uh, good, I s'pose. I dunno, I kept zoning out. Kinda hard to concentrate when people are whispering shit all around you."

She raises a questioning eyebrow, but Kíli merely shrugs easily, not bothering to answer. If his day's been anything like hers, she can guess exactly what he's talking about. But before she say anything, he reaches for his satchel (which had been discarded by his feet upon sitting down), pulling it up onto his lap by a slightly frayed strap. "I, uh, swung by the grocery store on my way over here. Hope you like the green tea and ginseng Arizona," he says, extracting a long, green tin can of the drink.

Tauriel smiles slightly, a bit surprised at his thoughtfulness. "I usually prefer my tea hot, but I suppose it'll have to do." Her voice has the same playfulness that his so often holds. She takes the can from him. "Thank you."

He beams, reaching inside his bag for a second can for himself. This one's a yellow colour and it reads _Mucho Mango._ He sets it on the small table before pulling out his laptop and history notes - he seems to plan on finishing some homework of his own while Tauriel works.

They both fall into comfortable silence - Tauriel sorting through the books and Kíli finishing his paper. There is no awkwardness or hostility between them anymore. Tauriel quite enjoys his company now, actually.

Twenty minutes later, Kíli sits up, stretching his back and arms languidly. Tauriel sneaks a glance (he'd shed his coat and is only wearing a thin navy blue t-shirt that clings to his muscles as if its existence depended on it) out of the corner of her eye, before quickly averting her gaze. Before her cheeks colour more than they already are, she clears her throat, getting his attention. "How's that essay of yours coming along?"

If he notices the colour on her cheeks, he doesn't mention it. "I just finished, but I still need to cite the sources and proof-read it." She nods appreciatively, looking back in his direction. "Now that you're finished, what're your plans?"

Kíli hums for a moment, thinking. "Well... I've the rest of the day free... Are you closing tonight?"

"No, Legolas is."

The brunet smiles, stealing a look at the clock on his computer screen. "It's quite early still... You gonna be here much longer?"

Tauriel checks the watch on her wrist. "My shift ends in about an hour."

The young Durin smiles excitedly. "Excellent."

* * *

Fíli is lounging on his bed watching t.v. with a beer held loosely in his hand when his phone rings. He pauses the recorded episode of _America's Next Top Model_ before reaching for the bedside table, where his phone is. He gives the caller I.D. a glance. "'Sup, Keester?"

"Hey! Uh, don't make dinner tonight."

Fíli raises an eyebrow. "What? Why not? I was set on making meatloaf..."

"Well... Tauriel is coming over and we're preparing dinner together. We're eating it over a movie."

The blond whistles appreciatively. "Damn." He laughs quietly. "Y'know Kee, when I said 'you should show the librarian you don't have anything against her', asking her on a date wasn't exactly what I meant."

"Oh, shut up!" Kíli hisses into the receiver. "It's not like _that,_ you scumbag. We're just... Hanging out."

Fíli smiles knowingly. "Hey, I'm not exactly complaining, am I?" He takes a sip of his beer. "What're y'all wanting to cook, then?"

Kíli pauses. "Uh, see, that's actually another reason why I called..."

"Oh?"

"I was wondering if you'd go to the grocery store for us to pick up a few things. Tauriel said she was thinking of making yakisoba, but we don't have some of the ingredients in her recipie. Plus, you know how to pick the good vegetables."

Fíli sighs. "Fine. Text me a list of the ingredients you need. I'll swing by the market on campus. We're running out of beer anyway."

* * *

"All right. Noodles, check. Accompanying vegetables, check. Hoisin sauce, check. 24-pack of beer, check." Fíli mumbles to himself, a grocery basket stuffed with the aforementioned items hanging from his hand as he makes his way through the busy aisles of the small market. The only thing left on the list Kíli had texted him is ground ginger, but he can't find it anywhere.

Looking around, he spots an employee - a blonde girl with her back to him - perhaps a year or two younger than himself, stocking iceberg lettuce onto a rack. He makes a beeline for her. "Excuse me," he says, getting her attention effectively.

The girl - "Sigrid", her name tag reads - is _gorgeous._ Her curly honey blonde hair falls into her stormy grey eyes easily, and looks like gossamer. He has an unexplainable urge to run his fingers through it and braid it. "How can I help you?" she says.

Oh, gods. Her smile is radiant. Fíli is paralysed, as if struck by lightning. He wonders what the hell is the matter with him. "Uh... A-are you okay?" she asks when he fails to answer her question.

He snaps out of it, berating himself. "Oh, uh, yes. Sorry," he clears his throat. "Uh, I was wondering where I could find ground ginger?"

The girl, Sigrid, smiles again, wiping her hands on her green apron. The colour is quite ugly, or rather, Fíli muses, it would be on anyone else. She's so lovely that it's not an eyesore at all. "Oh, that'll be on aisle four," she says. "I can lead you there if you'd like me to."

As much as he doesn't want to inconvenience her, he smiles, hoping his natural Durin charm is working. "Yes, thank you. That'd be awesome."

She directs him away from the produce section and straight to the correct aisle, scanning the shelves until the desired spice is finally found. "Here you are," she says, handing him the small container. He puts it in his basket with another _thank you_ and yet another grin.

"Is there anything else I can do for you today?" she asks. Fíli speaks on impulse.

"Yes, actually." His thinks for half a second, deciding how he wants to word his request. "I don't normally do this," he starts with a laugh. "But would asking for your number be... Too much?"

Sigrid'd eyes widen in surprise. "M-my number?"

"Or a date." Fíli shrugs, an easy smile on his lips. Being direct had always been his strong point.

"Uh..." She laughs nervously. He finds it really cute. "You... don't even know me..."

Fíli's heard that one before (granted, not often at all), so he nods, understanding. "Right, I'm sorry. That was rude of me, I apologise. Thank you for your help, though!" he says, smiling one last time before turning on his heel. Being rejected was still something he wasn't quite used to. He understood, but he'd still go straight home and sulk while watching the rest of his _ANTM_ marathon.

"W-wait!" Sigrid calls out, and Fíli turns back around. She has a sharpie in her hands, and is now rummaging her apron pockets for a scrap of paper. Realising what she's doing, Fíli offers her his arm with a grin. She reciprocates it and begins writing on the skin over his wrist. She caps the marker once she's done. "There you go, uh... Sorry, what's your name?"

The blond chuckles. "Fíli Durin," he bows deeply. "at your service!"

The girl laughs and gives him an adorable curtsy in return. "Sigrid Dale, at yours."

Before he can ask her if she's a student, his phone rings. "Oh, excuse me a second," he says, pulling the offending device out of his pocket. The caller I.D. lets him know it's his annoying little brother. "Kee?" He says, once he presses the _accept call_ section of the screen.

"Are you home yet? Tauriel and I are almost on our way back."

"Not yet, dammit. I'll be back in a jiffy. Keep yourselves entertained until then. But don't make a mess, I just had the rug dry-cleaned."

"---Fuck you," Kíli says, his voice strained. Fíli loves making his brother feel awkward. "Just get back soon. Bye." And then the line goes dead.

With a sigh, he shoves his phone back into his pocket. "Sorry about that."

Her voice is good-natured. "Your best friend, I take it?"

"My younger brother, actually. But yeah, he's as good as my best friend." He straightens up. "Anyway, I gotta get going... He and his not-girlfriend are expecting me back with the ingredients for dinner."

Sigrid smiles gently. "I can imagine."

"I'll text you tonight though, is that cool? Or call you. Whichever you're more comfortable with."

She chuckles lightly. "Either is fine. It was nice meeting you, Fíli."

And with that, she turns and heads back in the direction she came from. Fíli sighs dreamily, making his way to the registers to pay. He looks down at his wrist. " **Sigrid Dale** ", it reads. Her phone number is neatly written underneath. He smiles and runs his thumb over it before he realises what he's doing.

Oh, blow. Hell. He's screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do they have Arizona tea outside of the US?


	5. Bad Moon Rising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Valania here with chapter 5! This chapter took me longer to complete, for some reason. I feel like it's very lack-luster, so I apologise for that.  
> Also note that this hasn't been beta'd. Any mistakes are my own.
> 
> Even so, I would like to dedicate this chapter to ladyoflionheart on Tumblr: Seriously, your words mean the world to me (and Mer!) thank you so much for you continued support! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this! Comments, kudos and bookmarks are highly appreciated!

Kíli loves his job. There's nothing quite like smell of motor oil on his hands and the sight of a broken engine before his eyes. He only wishes it'd pay as well as a full-time job. Regardless, it's fun - it's freeing. He loves it dearly. The garage is his escape.

Granted, working at the record store _(vinyl_ records - how cool is that?) isn't half-bad, either. Combined, they make or a good earning every two weeks. The record store is the consistent of the two, while Bifur and Bofur, the owners of the garage (and some of his uncle's childhood friends) only call him when he's needed. As much as he adores fixing cars and motorcycles, he's fine with the arrangement: balancing two jobs and maintaining his grades up has proven to be quite the formidable task (one that he's just recently gotten a hand on).

Today, the aforementioned motor oil scent is mixed with cigarette smoke and damp earth. The garage feels a bit gloomy - the lighting is dim, the song on the beaten-up radio ( _Bad Moon Rising_ by Creedence Clearwater Revival) is barely distinguishable through the static, and the rain outside is unrelenting.

He takes a long drag of the cancer stick in his hand before crushing it on the ashtray sitting on the moving workable next to him, where he also keeps most of his tools, miscellaneous parts, and rags.

His task for the day is to work on an alternator, taking it apart and assembling it again. With a content sigh, Kíli reaches for his trusty air impact wrench to remove the large nut on the front aluminium shell. Once that's done, he removes the retainer plate carefully, his brow furrowing in concentration as he presses the bearing out.

Before he can remove the stator from the rear side of the alternator to take a look at it, he wipes the sweat on his forehead off with a  rag slung over his shoulder. The garage is hot, almost stuffy, thanks to the heat radiator hanging from the ceiling by the door. He doesn't mind it, though. If anything, it's kind of nice. Looking back to the alternator, he makes sure the three output wires of the stator are bolted to the rectifier assembly, but he's so enraptured in his work, that he doesn't notice the presences join him in the cramped garage. He's removing the voltage regulator when a voice speaks out.

"Aw, ain't he cute, guys? Little Durin wants to be a mechanic when he grows up!"

A cold chill runs down Kíli's spine as he immediately straightens up, alternator forgotten. "The hell are you doing here?"

Oh, shit. Fuck. There are five goons surrounding his work space. How the hell did he miss them?!

Bolg smiles a truly filthy smile before looking around the garage mock-nonchalant. "So _rude._ Didn't your mom ever teach you to mind your manners with your elders?" He clicks his tongue in a reprimanding way, and for a second, Kíli berates himself for standing so far away from the door (not that he'd get very far away - the fuckers are all part of the _football team,_ for fuck's sake). He wonders if they'll notice his hand inching towards the mace and hammer in one of the shelves of his work table.

"Cut the bullshit, Bolg. What the fuck do you want?" Kíli hates to admit it, but he's getting more and more nervous by the second. The gloating look on Bolg's repulsive face isn't helping at all.

The ugly fucker paces around the room, pretending to be having a look at the different sorts of tools and car parts cluttering the place. "Y'see, Kíli," he spits out his name venomously. Kíli hates it, but only glares back. "I have a _reputation_ to uphold," he begins conversationally, turning to face two of his mindless asshole buddies. Suddenly, one of them's holding Kíli's arms in place behind him, locking him in place. "What the fuck---?!" He pulls against the hold, but it's vice-grip like. Before he can direct a kick in the direction of the douche's groin, the other jerk happily swings his fist, and it connects with Kíli's stomach. 

_“Son_ of a _bitch,”_ He doubles over, growling in pain, struggling to fucking _breathe._ How in the _hell,_ he wonders angrily, did he miss the gorilla-like asswipes getting closer - close enough to _strike?!_   What the _shit_ , is he facing some sort of army of ugly, smelly _ninjas?_

"I can't let anyone, especially not a _Durin_ and his _whore_ make me look bad."

At the insult meant for Tauriel, Kíli sees red and can't hold his tongue. His voice is ragged and out of breath. "You don't need us to make you look bad, you crazy sack 'a shit. You do a bang-up job all on your fucking own." He hisses, glaring daggers at his offender.

A dark look crosses Bolg's beady eyes and he nods at the asshole who'd delivered the first blow. He grins wickedly and punches Kíli on the gut again. The brunet Durin coughs, breath leaving his body immediately and more pain setting in. Mother _fucker_. Is this dude's fist made of damn _concrete?_

"You don't get it, do you? That's not how things work around here, _fag."_ Bolg sneers.

In a crazed moment, Kíli lifts his head and smirks. "Me, a fag? Don't make me laugh," he knows he should've stopped talking like, yesterday. Too late. "There's nothin' wrong with being gay, but please, stop projecting."

Confused, Bolg hisses, "The fuck's that supposed to mean?"

Kíli laughs a humourless laugh, his gut aching furiously. "To borrow Tauriel's _brilliant_ remark, you tackle and wrestle sweaty dudes in skintight suits for fun. I just think you should _stop projecting your insecurities onto others_."

Rage like none Kíli has ever seen crosses the ugly bastard's face dangerously.

"You callin' _me_ a _fag?!"_

Before Kíli even has the time to formulate a reply, he feels the _very_ unpleasant feeling of a fist connecting with the right side of his face. Fucking hell. That's gonna leave a nasty bruise.

" _I ain't no fuckin' fag, y'hear_?!" Bolg's voice is enraged, but, again, Kíli's robbed of the chance to say anything at all as another fist meets his skin (nose this time - he tastes the blood before he can actually feel it running down his face).

Kíli tries to reach for the mace, a hammer, a wrench, screwdriver, _anything,_ in desperation, but before he knows it, Bolg's already off of him.

"What in the rowdy hell is goin’ on here?!"

Oh, gods bless Bofur and his perfect timing.

* * *

Tauriel is humming under her breath, making the commute to _Bifur and Bofur’s Mechanic Shop_ (a.k.a. “the garage”, as Kíli affectionately calls it) to meet up with Kíli as they’d decided yesterday over dinner.

Her big forest green umbrella does little to protect much other than her torso, so she’s forced to hug the doughnut box and two coffees she’d picked up on the way from _Krispy Kreme_. The smell is tempting her to reach for one of the pastries, but she holds back - better to eat them in a dry place, with coffee, and in Kíli’s presence.

Smiling to herself, she sighs. It’s strange, how her thoughts have shifted in regards to the brunet Durin in such a short amount of time. The fact that they’re undoubtedly friends sets strangely well in her mind, yet she can’t exactly tell _why._

Turning the corner, she avoids a large puddle, gripping the box of doughnuts tighter before looking up. There, in the distance (less than half a block away) is the shop. The sign is old - really old - and the paint is peeling, but it looks cozy and humble. Even at this distance, she can see inside - the big garage door (it’s an actual detached garage) is cracked half-opened. There’s a person sitting on a stool. The broad shoulders and hair pulled back into a small, messy bun at the nape of his neck neck tell her it’s Kíli. There are also two more people standing directly in front of the young man. One of them seems to be chastising the young man. Tauriel raises an eyebrow as she approaches, and manages to catch the end of what seems to be a lecture.

“-I know you don’t want Thorin all over your case about this, but for Christ’s sake, look at yourself! This isn’t just regular bullying, Kíli! This is serious!”

Tauriel’s breath hitches in her throat, her eyes widening at the words. The older-looking man shoves a wet rag in Kíli’s hand. Tauriel can only see the bulge of the dirty cloth.

“‘s nothin’, ‘m fine,” Kíli says, and Tauriel wonders if it’s her imagination, or if his voice sounds strained. “Don’t give me that look, Bofur. Uncle _can’t_ know about this. It’d just be one more thing for him to worry about, so just fuckin’ drop it, yeah?”

The man, Bofur, makes a sound of distress before speaking again. “What about Dís, then? You gonna keep her in the dark, too? She deserves to know what’s happening to her son, Kíli. This isn’t right.”

“Damnit, Bofur! It’s not your place to decide, so _let it go_.”

It’s then that Tauriel decides it’s time to interfere. She knocks on the door, and the metal echoes loudly. Kíli, startled by the sound, quickly turns towards the entrance, rag forgotten.

Tauriel can’t help the horrified gasp that escapes her lips a sight of Kíli.

“Oh, my god,” her voice is stunned.

“T-Tauriel!” he stumbles over his words, nervous, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing. “I didn't expect  you here so early…”

She makes her way inside hesitantly, her eyes glued to his face, gauging the damage: his nose is swollen, and the side of his face is in a similar state. His right eye is puffy, and there’s sign of bruising beginning to take place: a black eye in the works. Tauriel almost drops the items in her hands.

“What the  _hell_ happened to you?!”

“Oh, this?” he tries to smile, but it’s forced - she sees through it immediately. “Yeah, beautiful, right? I mean, when I klutz out, I really klutz out.”

She drops the box of doughnuts and the two coffees on a work table loaded with gears and other tools, and approaches Kíli slowly, as if he were a wounded wild animal. “You…” she pauses, not sure how to continue. “you couldn’t have done this to yourself, not even on accident…” She frowns in worry. “Bolg was here, wasn’t he? Oh my god, Bolg did this to you. Of course he did, he wanted revenge for Sunday. God, Kíli! He’s deranged, he could’ve killed you!”

Kíli’s expression sours and Tauriel instantly regrets her words. “He didn’t. I’m fine, really. This is just a scratch, okay? Nothing major.”

Tauriel’s face deadpans. “You have a black eye, and your nose could be fractured or broken, by the looks of the swelling. That’s _hardly_ a bloody  _scratch,”_ her voice is heated. “We should get you to a hospital.”

“Tauriel, honestly, this is nothing. I’ve had worse, all right? Please, let it go.”

She frowns knowingly. “You mean he’s _done worse before_?”

Bofur and the other man (“Bifur”, his mechanic’s jumpsuit says) are quiet, but giving Kíli meaningful looks.

“-- _Please_. Just drop it,” he looks at her, his eyes beseeching. Her heart breaks at the sight. “I’ll tell you all you want to know, yeah? Just… not now.”

She sighs, defeated. “Fine, you stubborn idiot,” he smiles at her words. She reaches out tentatively, touching the side of his face with cool fingers. He winces and she retracts her hand immediately. “I’m sorry,” her voice is sympathetic. “Does it hurt?”

He chuckles slightly. “Nah, it felt good. Your hands are like a cold compress,” he grabs her hand and gently places it over the swollen side of his face with a cheeky grin. “See? Much better.”

Her palm is tingling with something unknown, and she doesn’t notice the faint blush on her cheeks as she smiles slightly at him and his antics.

“So,” he says after a few seconds, his eyes finally leaving hers. “Did you bring the doughnuts?”

* * *

Fíli is walking back to his dorm room from his math class when he spots her in the distance. Her honey blond hair is up in a messy bun today, and she’s wearing an oversized hoodie over a pair of simple jeans. He grins and heads in her direction.

He’d gone home the night he met he and texted her right away. Now, they’re in constant communication, whether it be through texting, phone calls, or Snapchat. The two haven’t stopped talking in the two days since they met.

He walks up to her (she’s sitting on a bench in the Biology building courtyard) quietly, and sits down next to her. Oblivious, she continues to look at something in her notebook. He grins then, bumping his shoulder to hers lightly. Startled, she gasps, almost dropping her things. “Oh, F-Fíli!”

“Hey there, Sig,” he says, his voice guilty. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya,”

She smiles at him softly. “That’s okay,”

He feels nervous all of a sudden. “So, uh, how’s your day been?”

She sighs and looks down at her notebook again, worry in her grey eyes. “I’ve a test in my science class next week, but I’ve barely had the mind to study with so much going on at work and at home,”

Fíli wants to make her worry dissipate immediately. “If studying’s a problem, maybe we could do it together?” he suggests, his voice faking a calm he doesn't quite feel. “Like, say, tomorrow, at the campus library? I’m meeting my brother there anyway, since he’s gonna spend time with his not-girlfriend-yet. She’s one of the student librarians.”

Sigrid hums, deep in thought. “I’ve class at 10 A.M., but it’s only for an hour and a half… Meet you there at 11:30?”

Fíli grins, a joyous glint in his eyes. “It’s a date!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a sort of disclaimer, I would just like to state that I do not consider American Football as a "gay" sport, for there is no such thing as a "gay" sport. The exchange between Bolg and Kíli may make me seem like a homophobic asshole (I'M NOT I PROMISE), but let me explain: Bolg's a piece of shit. We all know the type. Macho dude who has his head so far up his own ass he can't even tell up from down - he consider being a "fag" one of the worst insults. Kíli, on the other hand, is being beaten up and thus mindlessly returns something Bolg considers an insult back to him in order to spite him (mind you, not a good move, nor the smartest, but I'm sure we've all been in this position - I know I have been). That being said, I hope that made sense.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Can't Fight This Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god okay so it's been a month since I've updated, anD I'M SO SORRY OKAY. Life and work got in the way and it was really difficult to draw inspiration to continue this chapter, but I did it! The start is really weird and choppy and I'm not sure if I really like it, but oh well. Also, this has been unbeta'd because Merrom's been busy with schoolwork and the like, so, yeah, any mistakes are my own.  
> Again, apologies for the tardiness! Hopefully the rest of the chapters won't take a million years to write. The only real reason why I even finished is because I had the day off at work and decided to kick my ass into gear and get it done. This is more of a (short) transition kind of chapter, by the way. But yeah, I'll shut up now so you all can enjoy!

"Why are you so nervous? You've been talking to this girl for a few days and she seems pretty solid, right? So what's the big deal?"

Fíli frowns at his brother and his questions, but he doesn't respond, opting to look down at the watch on his wrist instead, then fidgeting for a few seconds in his seat before stealing a glance at the clock on the wall.

No matter where he looks, time remains the same: constant. _Slow_ \- 11:50 a.m. Fíli knows being 20 minutes late isn't anything _unusual._ Hell, it's normal, even - she's a college freshman, time management isn't exactly one of their strengths. And besides, her lecture ended only half an hour ago. Perhaps she'd been delayed in class?

No matter - he's on edge and he hates it.

"I'm sure she'll show, Fíli. Just give it a few minutes," Tauriel says then, walking to up their table, pulling a cart full of books with her. "Or maybe send her a text if you're really worried." she suggests, setting a stack of books on the table, pushing them towards Kíli with a warm smile and kind eyes. "The textbooks you wanted," she explains.

Kíli grins widely, and for a moment, Fíli forgets his own dilemma: the smile his brother is giving Tauriel is none like Fíli has seen on Kíli's face.

"You're the absolute best, you know that?" The brunet says to the librarian, his eyes giving her an almost besotted expression. Fíli purses his lips knowingly, fighting a smile of his own - fate's funny like that sometimes.

Tauriel blushes slightly at the praise, but still smiles back gently, pleased. "I try," and with that, she turns on her heel, headed back to the check-in desk. Kíli's eyes are glued to her back.

"Gee whiz," Fíli whistles, sitting back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. "And I thought  _I_ was whipped. You've got it worse than I do, don'tcha, little brother?"

Kíli brings his eyes back to his brother with a distracted "Hmm?"

The blond laughs, his eyes glinting. "Nah, nothin'," he shakes his head. "I just was just thinking it's cute how bad you've got it for Tauriel when it was only a few days ago that you couldn't stand her. Oh man, remember when you called her a _bitch?"_ He laughs again.

Kíli blushes furiously, obvious shame in his eyes. "Shut up!" He hisses, looking back to the oblivious redhead at the other side of the spacious room, as if she could hear the conversation from this distance. "I didn't _know_ her then, and I'm an idiot, what do you expect?" And then, almost as an afterthought: "Oh, and I _do not_ have it bad for her. We're just _friends._ How many times am I gonna have to remind you?"

Fíli snorts, rolling his eyes. "Yeah well, Uncle and Bilbo were ' _just friends_ ' once too, remember? But that sure didn't stop them from disappearing for like two months only for us to later find out they'd eloped in Vegas."

"That's _totally_ different!" Kíli exclaims.

Fíli raises an eyebrow, Sigrid and her tardiness moved to the back of his mind for the time being. "Is it, though? I mean, true, you're not shagging or snogging after every fight you have," Kíli makes a face and a sound of distress. "But remember when they first met? Uncle Thorin thought Bilbo was useless and they were bickering _constantly."_

"--So what's your point?"

"My point is," Fíli says, his voice adopting a dramatic tone. " _Uncle Thorin_ hated _Bilbo_ once. _You_ hated _Tauriel_ once."

"...I didn't _hate_ her," Kíli mumbles in a low voice, averting his eyes with an embarrassed frown. "I just disliked her very strongly."

"Okay, so you _strongly disliked_ Tauriel, big difference," he waves his hand dismissively before continuing. "Anyway, going by Uncle and Bilbo's example, perhaps she'll save you from some sort of aggressor like Bilbo with with that asshole Azog, and then you'll shift your thoughts and actually realise you were in fact in love the entire time---" Fíli stops himself there, grinning wickedly as something comes to mind. "Oh, but _wait,_ she's already saved you before, hasn't she?"

Kíli tries to glare at his brother, he really does, but it's a wasted effort, as Fíli's too busy genuinely laughing his ass off. "Oh, my god. You two totally  _are_ like uncle and Bilbo. And to make this even better, Tauriel saved you from _Bolg,_ none other than Azog’s son, who just so happened to be Uncle's attacker. Holy shit, this is incredible---"

Kíli's cheeks properly resemble tomatoes at this point, and the older Durin is immensely enjoying it. He notices Tauriel glance at them from her post in curiosity - she can hear Fíli's carrying laugh all the way to the check-in desk.

Kíli finally snaps, his voice sounding tight - _hurt._ "We are _not_ like Uncle and Bilbo! Tauriel doesn't think of me that way, all right? And no matter what I do or how you look at it, she _never_ will!"

The outburst brings Fíli to a halt and he looks at his brother questioningly: Kíli looks just as surprised at his own words as Fíli is. "I-I didn't--" he pauses, now truly embarrassed and not knowing what to say in the least. "That's not--" he looks away.

"Yo, Kee," Fíli begins softly. "I'm your brother, man. You don't have to feel embarrassed in front of me, okay?" The older man says, raising an eyebrow. "If you meant it, it's okay. Besides, I'm pretty sure she probably feels the same way about you," he says, remembering the sweet smiles and kind looks the redhead seems to have reserved solely for Kíli.

"I doubt it," Kíli's voice is neutral, and Fíli wonders just how forced it is.

"Well, do you want her to?"

The younger of the two looks back at his brother, confusion (at what, Fíli doesn't know) swirling in the depths of dark caramel. Before he actually gets to respond, someone plops down on the chair directly next to Fíli.

"Oh, my god," a familiar voice says, and Fíli stiffens immediately, not having seen her come in. "I am _so_ sorry for being late - the lecture ran a little longer today and I had to stay back to talk to the professor about make-up work and extra credit," she says, dropping her bag on the table.

Finally breaking out of his moment of solidification, Fíli turns to her with a relieved smile. "Sig!" The relief turns to teasing. "I was starting to wonder if you'd gotten cold feet and decided not to show."

By now, Kíli's snapped out of his reverie. He manages a grin. "Don't let him get to you," he assures the younger girl. "If anyone was nervous around here, it was him. He kept looking at the clock over and over and over as if to will time to pass by faster," he extends his hand out in a friendly invitation. "I'm Kíli, by the way, this massive brute's younger, better-looking, _cooler_ brother."

Sigrid cracks a smile of her own, taking his band. "A pleasure, Kíli. My name's Sigrid Dale."

Kíli chuckles, sending his brother a sly look before speaking. "I've heard practically _all_ about you, so it's nice to finally put a face to the name," then, in a conspiratorially low voice: "he won't stop talking about you! You've got him bewitched!" Fíli blushes and shoves his brother (who is _laughing oh the nerve of him_ ) on the shoulder.

Sigrid simply raises an eyebrow, laughing along with the younger Durin, and Fíli kind of wishes he could crawl under the table and hide from her probing gaze.

"Wait a minute, let me go get Tauriel. She was hoping to meet you as well," Kíli says, getting up and striding away towards the check-in desk.

Sigrid clears her throat, looking at the blond out of the corner of her eye. "Is Tauriel his 'not-girlfriend', as you call her?"

Fíli looks at his brother, animatedly talking to the librarian, pointing in their direction excitedly. He hears Tauriel laughing softly and Kíli grinning like a maniac before he smiles back at Sigrid. "That's the one," he chuckles. "Not sure I'll be able to call her that soon anymore, though."

Before Sigrid can ask what he means, the other two arrive back at their table. "Okay, Tauriel," the brunet says. "This is Sigrid Dale. Sigrid, this is Tauriel, my----" he hesitates briefly, and Tauriel looks at him oddly. "--friend." He finishes lamely.

Sigrid doesn't seem to have caught Kíli's slight pause. "It's so nice to meet you, Tauriel!" She says brightly.

The willowy redhead smiles, bowing her head slightly in acknowledgement. "You as well. Fíli's talked about you an awful lot since he's made your acquaintance."

Kíli bursts out laughing loudly and Fíli blushes again, fighting the urge to cover his face with his hands as Tauriel smiles a suspiciously innocent smile. "Oi, not you, too!"

* * *

 

"So, what do you think?"

"Well, she seems nice. I like her." Kíli pauses. "I mean, I've _never_ seen Fíli this excited, let alone _nervous_ about a girl in my entire life. It's new, y'know? Refreshing, even."

Tauriel gives understanding nod, looking back at the laughing couple on the table. She and Kíli have moved back to her post with the pretext of checking the textbooks in Kíli's arms out. "Sometimes people just click." She says.

Kíli hums, agreeing. "Not like us, eh?"

She chuckles. "Not in the least."

"It's nice though, this," Kíli says, looking at his hands. Tauriel raises an eyebrow. "I mean, I'm happy you're my-" again, Kíli pauses briefly before finishing his sentence in a low voice. "--my friend. I'm really glad you're my friend. I'm glad we got over our differences."

This is the second time he's paused before regarding her as his friend. Tauriel wonders if he's just getting used to the idea of calling her as such or if there's a different reason behind his hesitation.

"Anyway, I seriously hope this thing with Sigrid, whatever it is, works out for Fee," Kíli says before Tauriel can question him. "He deserves it."

She smiles. "I agree. Your brother is a kind soul. He deserves happiness, and Sigrid looks like a very nice girl."

Kíli snorts. "Kind soul with a side of dweeb, you mean."

The librarian rolls her eyes. "Oh, like _you've_ any room to talk."

They laugh in synchronisation, it seems, and Tauriel can feel an unknown sensation blossom in her chest. Not unpleasant - just strange.

* * *

A trail of smoke curls into the cold night sky, giving away Kíli's favourite (secret) place to relax.

It's been two weeks since his encounter with Bolg at the garage, and his black eye is just about gone. The days have passed in a blur of essays, work, daily visits to the library ranging from 5 minutes to 5 hours (he'd used his papers on the Woodstock and the Vietnam War as excuses), and time spent in Tauriel's company. They're basically inseparable at this point.

Fili's words still plague him, running through his mind in mad loops.

_"Do you want her to?"_

Does her want her to _what?_

He's kidding himself, of course. Because in the past two weeks and three days, something started to grow between them. In the past two weeks and three days, all there's been is _Tauriel._ His chest compresses with a warmth he can't describe at the simple sight of her smile, the twinkle in her eyes when she's teasing him, her laugh, which though he's still insistent on denying to himself, has inexplicably become one of his favourite sounds.

Kíli groans at his own thoughts, folding his legs close to his body so that his knees are pressed to his chest. He holds the cigarette in between two fingers as he rests his forehead in his knees, glaring at his booted feet. This isn't what he _needs._ Not so soon after having become her friend. He curses his stupid heart.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid_.

As much as he likes her (because _yes,_ he _likes_ her. Like that. God, thinking about it like that makes him feel like he's back in middle school), Tauriel thinks of him as nothing more than a friend, and probably an _obnoxious troublemaker_ friend at that. If he's lucky, maybe her _best_ obnoxious troublemaker friend, but he's not stupid enough to hope for _that_ much.

A voice in the back of his mind tells him not to disregard it. It tells him that _there's still a chance_. Of course, this also happens to be the voice in the back of his mind that has advised him to do many a stupid thing in the past, so he kindly tells it to shut the hell up. There will be no hoping on this end, thank you very much.

Still... He can't help but wonder. He lifts his head, looking up at the night sky, the stars so incredibly visible (thanks to it being so late at night in a small college town). He smiles to himself slightly - the stars remind him of her eyes.

Sighing, he brings the cigarette back to his lips, taking a long drag and feeling the nicotine and tobacco work their addictive magic. His nerves are only slightly soothed, though.

" _An astrophysicist_ ," she'd told him when he'd asked. _"I want to be an astrophysicist. But I enjoy literature as well. Books and stories have always fascinated me as much as the stars._ "

She'd smiled warmly at him then, and the conversation had shifted to something else.  

The voice in the back of his mind speaks quietly again, reminding him that she's told him so much. That she has entrusted part of herself, part of her dreams to him and that's gotta count for _something._

Groaning again, he adjusts his headphones before he digs his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and pulling up the music library feature. He unpauses the last song he'd been listening to without looking at what it is. Anything will work in drowning out the idiot in his head.

" _\---'Cause I feel so secure when we're together. You give my life direction, you make everything to clear..._ "

 _Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck_. Kíli groans again, wondering if he's cursed.

" _And even as I wonder, I'm keeping you in sight. You're a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter's night. I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might... And I can't fight this feeling anymore. I've forgotten what I started fighting for._ "

“Perfect. Just absolutely wonderful,” he mumbles, feeling that strange warmth cursing through his chest, making his fingers and his toes tingle.

His phone vibrates as he receives a text message. Scooping his phone up from its resting place on his lap, he looks at it.

“ _Hey, are you free tomorrow evening/night? I want to show you something._ ” it reads.

He smiles briefly before typing back a response: “ _Of course. Looking forward to it._ ”

He, in fact, is screwed, but he doesn’t really care. Actually, he decides, it’s totally worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao cheesy end is cheesy.


End file.
